Promises
by Velexia
Summary: Jesse's life spirals out of control after the death of his aunt. With his drug usage and mental state becoming unpredictable and more fragile, Jesse has no where left to turn... Pre-Heisenberg.
1. Chapter 1

*This is my first story...I do not own anything, I am just a huge fan hoping to pay homage.

* * *

><p>The blackness in the sky was just beginning to fade, thousands of stars started to dim. The moon hung low, giving barely enough light to make out the silhouettes of the large trees that lined either side of the worn gravel road. A cold wind gusted through the night, leaving a crispness to the air. Jesse shivered slightly, the wind cold enough to carry through his hoodie and mist his breath. The only sound that could be heard was that of his sneakers thudding dully on the road as the gravel kicked up behind him. His legs began to ache with every step he took, unsure if it was simply from the cold or from how long he had been walking. Jesse glanced over his shoulder; he was unable to make out anything that laid behind him, the road was completely masked in darkness. Turning his attention to the road before him, Jesse shoved his hands deep into his pockets hoping to obtain a bit of warmth as he wrapped his arms around himself.<p>

He hadn't expected it to be as cold as it was, otherwise he would have brought something warmer. The chill had definitely began to set in. As much as he wanted to turn back, he knew he had to go on. It was only a few more feet. Squinting, he could just make out the rod iron gates that encased the small San Jose De Armijo Cemetery. With a sigh, he quickened his pace, knowing if he didn't hurry up, he would turn around. It had been almost six months since his aunt Ginny had died and yet this would be his first time going to her grave since her funeral. Oddly though, it seemed to have little or no effect on him. He remembered standing emotionless as they lowered her casket into the ground; around him, his family sniffled and wiped their eyes, while other sobbed loudly. He couldn't find it in himself to muster much of anything other than emptiness.

Jesse quickly made his way across the small cemetery, dodging sporadic white grave stones that shone eerily in the moon light. His heartbeat quickened as he approached his aunt's grave, a lump seem to be lodged in his throat. He had avoided this for so long, making excuses upon excuses of why he couldn't go. He was good at that, or so he was told. He always had an excuse for everything they said, though none ever seemed good enough. An excuse of why he was failing classes, why he was caught shoplifting, why he was never sober, or so they said. Try a little bit harder, his parents said. Apply yourself, the school said. Be a pillar of the community, the courts said. He never seemed to listen; to be what they said he should be.

His steps slowed as he approached the large Arizona Ash tree that marked the location of his aunt's head stone. Stopping a few feet away he felt his stomach lurch, the contents of his stomach turning causing him to gage. He brain raced, he had to do it, to many excuses. He owed it to her, to say goodbye.

"Jesus," he muttered a loud.

Pushing himself forward, he stopped just to the left of the gravestone, the branches of the Ash casting shadows in front of him.

In Loving Memory

Ginny Anderson

Loving sister, daughter & aunt

August 30th, 1965 - September 24th, 2000

Four days after Jesse's 16th birthday she had died. She had waited, like she had promised. She always had kept her promises to him, even though his seemed to always fall short. Ginny had held on, refusing to let go. Celebrating his birthday with him, her smile never leaving her face. She had stopped her chemo by that point, radiation treatments long before that. Ginny's blonde hair had finally began to grow back, she had become comfortable enough not to have to wear a scarf anymore, though she had never been inclined to do so even when her hair began to fall out in front of Jesse.

_"Now sweetheart, you know that they love you," Ginny said softly as she slowly sipped the Sprite that Jesse had poured into her wine glass._

_Lazily Jesse traced his finger around the glass of whiskey that sat before him, his eyes locked on the table. "Yeah, sure," he muttered._

_Sighing slightly, Ginny shifted uncomfortably. It had taken her all day to put together the small birthday celebration for her nephew. Even though she was weak and obviously tired, she refused to let her pain damper his birthday. She had ordered in several dishes from the local Chinese restaurant that Jesse seemed to favor and had made him a birthday cake, decorating it with white and blue frosting. Adam and Melissa had reassured him that they would be there with Jake, only to have called shortly before dinner apologizing that they would not be able to make it. That the music instructor that they had been on the waiting list for, had finally called stating he would be able to take Jake, though he needed to be there tonight. _

_"You know," Ginny said smiling, "You haven't opened your present." _

_Jesse gripped his drink and quickly downed it, the burning it left in his throat quickly washed over his entire body. As he set his glass down on the table, Jesse slowly looked up at his aunt. His blue eyes were glassed over and blood shot. He had made quick work of the bottle of whiskey that his aunt had brought out for his birthday, the bottle that he had promised that he would only have one drink out of. But like always, Jesse had negated on his promise, though Ginny had not said anything. She never did, his short comings never being pointed out by her ever. Leaning back in the chair he gazed at his aunt. In the past 6 months her cancer had spread fast, no longer located just in her lungs but now in her lymph nodes. Even though she had stopped her treatment, she had continued to grow gaunt and frail. No longer able to do much for herself, most of the household chores fell on Jesse. But she never complained, not once. _

_Closing his eyes, he ran his hands through his hair. He was being selfish, he knew that. Forcing a smile, he placed his hands behind his head and looked at his aunt. _

Jesse's hand slid his hand into his hoodie pocket and grasped the cold pocket watch that been the last gift his aunt had given him. Pulling the watch out, he ran his thumb over the smooth case, smiling a little. Such a simple gift had meant so much to him. Growing up he had always loved the watch, never missing the chance to play with it, letting it dangle and spin on the gold chain. Though his mother never seemed pleased to see him with it. He might loose or break it. It belonged to his long dead grandfather that he had never met.

_"Jesse," Ginny had said as she slowly stood up and carefully made her way to him. " I want you to know no matter what, I will always be here with you. That I'm proud of you, no matter what happens. Life can only be what you make it, no one else can control the outcome but you. Promise me Jesse, no matter what you will take care of yourself. Promise me that you will take care of yourself."_

Tears rolled down his face. It was the last time he had seen his aunt. He had left shortly after and spent the next four days on a bender. Not once thinking of his aunt, only the drugs that seemed to continuously flow. It hadn't been till his friends dropped him off at his aunt's house, still spinning from the continuous partying that he had found out that she had passed. It had been his fault, he hadn't been there to check up on her. To make sure she was ok. His parents had been angry, yelling and screaming. He had promised to look after her, to make sure that everything was ok. He was a disappointment, a low life, an addict, everything except their son. The only saving grace had been the fact that they did not want him to come home and had allowed him to say at his aunts.

Kneeling down, Jesse placed the watch inside the empty flower vase that was part of her headstone. He didn't deserve it. He knew that. Leaning back, Jesse fell back against the dark tree. Slipping his hand once again into his pocket, he pulled out the bottle of pain medication that he had of his aunts. His mother thought that she had disposed of them, but he had always kept a bottle hidden. As awful as it was, the pain medication and the anti-nausea medication helped when he came down.

Opening the bottle, Jesse dumped the pills into his mouth and swallowed. Leaning his head against the tree, he closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"The properties of a solution differ from those of a pure solvent due to interactions that take place between the solute and solvent molecules. The properties that exhibit such changes are called the colligative properties and include vapor pressure lowering, boiling point elevation, freezing point depression and changes in osmotic pressure."

Jesse groaned and let his head slip down into his arms that rested on the lab table before him. The longer Mr. White droned on the more his head seemed to pound. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Jesse wished he was any place other than Mr. White's chemistry class. His body ached, every muscle in his body seemed to tighten and contract.

"Jesse."

Sharply inhaling, Jesse's stomach lurched, the contents of his stomach threatened to come up. Slowly, he let his breath slip between his lips, with some hopes of calming himself. He couldn't get sick, not here in class. Pushing his head harder against his arms, Jesse felt his stomach turn again.

"Jesse."

He knew it was his fault. Everything seemed to be spinning slowly out of control, from one day to the next. The day's seem to melt together in a foggy blur of drugs and partying.

"Mr. Pinkman!"

"Yo," Jesse muttered raising his hand slightly.

"I was not calling attendance Mr. Pinkman, I was merely asking if you knew what the molecular weight of the compound was."

Jesse groaned and lifted his head from his arms, gazing at Mr. White, trying as hard as he could to focus.

"I have no idea," Jesse mumbled. His head was pounding and he couldn't focus on the formula that Mr. White had written on the board. Sitting up, he wiped the sweat that was gathering on his brow and took a deep breath in. Trying to calm himself, Jesse ran his hand through his hair and exhaled.

"Imagine that, Mr. Pinkman." Mr. White moved around to the front of the lab table and leaned against it, crossing his arms across his chest. "That you do not have the answer to a question that we have been reviewing all week. Could it perhaps be, that you Mr. Pinkman, do not apply yourself?"

Jesse didn't respond, his eyes slid and he tipped his head back. Opening his eyes, he stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know," he mumbled.

Mr. White was silent. Jesse could feel his and the rest of the classes eyes on him. Watching him, judging him.

"Perhaps, Mr. Pinkman," Mr. White softly said, "You should spend a little bit less time on your extracurricular activities and bit more time on your academics. If you spent less time doing whatever it is you do at night and more time studying, you would be able to answer my question. Then maybe you might be able to make it through my class without needing a nap like a toddler."

Muffled laughs floated through the classroom. Squeezing his eye tightly shut again, Jesse sat up straight. His heart racing, he turned and looked at Mr. White. Before him stood one of the dullest men he had ever met. Meek and reserved, Mr. White had always seemed to stray away from confrontations, especially with students. Now, suddenly, it seemed as if he had decided to take whatever problems he had out on him.

"Like I care what you think," Jesse said, as he pushed himself up, his lab stool screeching against the floor.

"Excuse me," Mr. White stammered, looking taken back. Whispers filled the classroom, as Jesse scanned the room, hoping to see a friendly face. His stomach turned again, lurching every which way. Grab his backpack that was sitting on the floor next to his lab station, Jesse turned and headed for the door.

"You're not going any where Mr. Pinkman," Mr. White said loudly, his voice cracking.

His sneakers squeaked on the tile, Jesse made his way through the maze of tables to the door at the back of the room. Turning he surveyed the room once again, his eyes resting on Mr. White. His heart pounded in his chest, as his hand reached for the door knob.

Pulling the door open, Jesse glanced over his shoulder, "Try and stop me, bitch."

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jesse turned and headed down the science hallway, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his head down, the dull thud of his shoes echoing behind him.


End file.
